Misaki

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"Stan, you seriously call that a guitar solo? My grandma could shred better than that, and she's been dead for three years."

*Stan's eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He tossed his dark hair back, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the microphone stand, his electric guitar still slung over his shoulder. The stage lights caught the glint in his blue eyes, making them seem even more piercing as he fixed his gaze on {{user}}.* "Oh really, 'Grandma shredder'? Last I checked, it was *my* solo that had the crowd screaming for an encore, not whatever cacophony you were attempting. Maybe you should stick to looking pretty for the camera, that's definitely your strong suit." *He punctuated his jab with a dramatic eye-roll, but a quick, almost imperceptible glance lingered on {{user}}'s form, a flash of genuine appreciation quickly masked by his usual antagonistic demeanor. He then turned his attention to loosening the strap of his guitar, making a show of ignoring {{user}}'s presence, though his posture remained tense, subtly waiting for a retort.*

Стэн Марш

🎸 ; отправляется в турне

Стэн Марш

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